


It’s An Acquired Taste

by SweetFanfics



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Gen, Ichabod takes his coffee strong, crazy strong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 21:11:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/SweetFanfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichabod stood up with a pleased expression on his face and the coffee tin in hand. "Allow me to brew you a fresh pot!" He stated, a proud gleam in his eyes. "Ms. Mills has taught me how to brew a good cup with your machine."</p><p>Frank couldn't help but stare suspiciously at the man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s An Acquired Taste

Frank would like the record to show that while he doesn't think Crane is a bad guy and all, his coffee habits are _terrible_. Meaning that not only does he tend to steal Frank's cup but he  _also_ tends to take the last cup of coffee _without_ putting a fresh pot on. And 8 times out of 10? This would happen scant minutes  _before_ Frank would go to get a cup for himself.  


As he stood in front of the empty coffee pot, Frank closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. ' _1, 2, 3..._ ' He began to count slowly in his head, trying to bring his ire down as he counted to 10 and back. One more inhale, exhale and Frank felt calm enough to tackle making a fresh pot.  


As he began to sift through the cupboards for the coffee bag, Ichabod strode into the break room with two empty cups in hand - one of them being Frank's blue mug. "Captain." Ichabod greeted, placing the mugs in the sink before he turned towards the other man.  


"Mr. Crane." Frank returned, eyes on his mug. His eyes shifted between the empty coffee pot and the blue mug, deciding to make a fresh pot and while it was brewing, clean his mug. And maybe find a sharpie so that he could write his name in big bold letters on the damn thing.  


' _This is why personalized items are a thing.'_ Frank thought with a wry twist to his lips,  _'Maybe I should get a mug with my name on it...'_  


"I'm sorry, did you want to use the mug?" Ichabod asked, pointing at the mug in question. "Should I ask Ms. Mills if it would be alright for you to use it? Although I am certain she will not mind."  


Wait. What? Frank stared at the man with no small amount of confusion, a tiny bit of 'Oh I see what happened', before he stated, "That's not her mug."  


Ichabod stared at him before he blinked at the used mug. "It is not?" He asked puzzled. "She told me that the plain blue mug was hers."  


Well, that explained things didn't it. Frank crooked a finger at Ichabod, waiting for him to step next to him before he pointed at the sky blue mug with the white inside. " _That_ is Mills mug." He then pointed at the navy blue mug in the sink. " _That_ is mine. And in case you can't remember that, hers is round and mind is square in shape."  


Frank wryly wondered if the other man was thinking of the obvious joke (he'd heard it many times before, 'Don't be such a square Frank! Cutlery comes in all kinds of shapes these days!'). It was a surprise when the man nodded, face as serious as ever. "Understood. I do apologize for the mistake."  


Waving a hand, Frank dismissed the apology. "It's not the first time that's happened. Don't worry about it." He went back to searching for the coffee and filters, determined to get his caffeine fix but all he kept finding were snack stashes.   


Frank stared at the large assortment of granola bars, wondering who those belong too when Ichabod asked, "I'm sorry but are you looking for something?"  


"The coffee." Frank answerd thoughtlessly, debating the merits of sneaking one bar out from the large pile. It was a pretty big pile, they couldn't miss the one right? No, no. He shook his head and closed the cabinet, turning around to find Ichabod busily searching through one of the lower cabinets.  


What in the name of... Ichabod stood up with a pleased expression on his face and the coffee tin in hand. "Allow me to brew you a fresh pot!" He stated, a proud gleam in his eyes. "Ms. Mills has taught me how to brew a good cup with your machine."  


Frank couldn't help but stare suspiciously at the man. 'With your machine'? He eyed the simple coffee maker and wondered what model Mills had back home. But whatever. He wasn't going to passover someone else making him coffee. "I appreciate that Mr. Crane. I'll be in my office."  


With a happy nod, Ichabod turned towards the coffee machine with that same happy gleam in his eye. Why it made Frank feel wary, the man had no idea...  


\--

Closing his eyes, Frank slowly inhaled the aromatic scent of the freshly brewed coffee. With a lazy exhale, he opened his eyes with a tiny smile on his lips. That smelled _good_.   


Picking up the creamer and sugar that Ichabod had thoughtfully brought with the coffee, Frank decided that maybe the man wasn't as bad as he thought he was.  


' _If only he'd stop poking all the tubelights and bulbs.'_ He thought wryly to himself, tapping a sugar container empty into his mug. One of these days Ichabod was going to burn a finger or worse thanks to his endless curiosity. ' _He's like a giant cat or something.'_    


Frank decided that the comparison was apt as he raised his mug to his lips. There was a loud bang that made his hand start, splashing some of the hot coffee over his hand and lap. "Son of a-!" He barked, glaring up at Abbie, who stood in the doorway, panting and hair slightly askew. "What the hell, Lieutenant?!"  


"Sir, I wouldn't suggest drinking that!" She said hurriedly, taking her hands off the door frame.   


Pulling his drawer open, Frank yanked a few tissues out of the box he kept stashed there as he asked, "Why the hell not?"  


A strange look flitted over the woman's face, like she was torn between amusement and some long forgotten horror, "Crane made that didn't he? He tends to make it... kind of strong."  


Giving the woman the driest look he could, Frank continued to pat his pants dry as he replied, "I hardly think that _that_ is cause for you to barge into my office and 'warn' me about it."  


"You haven't tasted how strong he makes it." Abbie replied, body shuddering with her words. Frank paused to look at her. Properly look at her. She definitely looked a tiny bit spooked and worried as she eyed the innocent coffee mug. "It's not that it tastes bad. Just that it's really too strong."  


He eyes the coffee mug and wonders, how strong  _can_ someone make coffee. It can't be worse than the pot James makes. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you Lieutenant." Frank nodded at the woman, staring her down until a resigned expression crossed her face.   


It was only after she had walked away that Frank picked up his mug and took a careful sniff of it. ' _It's just my imagination that it smelled too strong right?'_ Frank pondered, bringing the rim to his lips.  


As soon as the dark liquid hit his tongue, Frank choked. Dear  _God_! That was  _vile_! He didn't think it was  _possible_ for coffee to be that  _bitter_! There was bad coffee, there was the cold sludge that was stuck to the bottom of a pot after several hours and then there was _this_.  


Gagging and making faces at his screen, Frank frantically rooted around in his desk for a mint, chocolate,  _anything_ to erase the terrible taste from his tongue.  


Unfortunately, there was nothing in his drawer but there _was_ an extra packet of sugar lying next to the hazelnut creamer. Frank made a frantic grab for it, quickly tearing the packet open and pouring a good part of the sweet crystals on his tongue.  


As he sucked on the sugar, Frank glared at the offensive coffee. 'I _think that just killed some of my taste buds. Urgh, I can still taste it.'_ Tipping the entire packet into his mouth, Frank pushed himself out of his seat and grabbed his mug. Without a word, or making eye contact with Abbie as he passed her desk, Frank made a beeline for the break room.  


He poured the coffee down the drain, vaguely hoping that the liquid wasn't strong enough to cause any damage to the pipes. After shaking the last few drops out of his mug, Frank reached for the coffee pot. Best to get rid of it before someone felt victim to Ichabod's terrible coffee brewing skills.  


The pot was in his hand when Ichabod crossed by the break room. "Ah Captain!" Frank looked up at the man and his beaming smile, dread curling around in his stomach. "Back for seconds?"  


' _Think fast Irving!'_  Frank told himself, eyes darting down to the line of clean mugs besides the coffee machine. He quickly snatched the nearest mug - Brasco's - and began to pour some coffee into it. "Just getting some for someone else. I enjoyed mine, thank you."  


Ichabod beamed with delight at the praise, all but glowing as he picked up the plain white cups that they used to serve visitors and poured himself a cup. Frank pretended to futz around with his mug, watching Ichabod prepare his own cup with mounting horror.   


' _No sugar or cream?'_ Horrified couldn't even begin to describe how Frank felt in that moment. ' _Does he seriously have no tastebuds? He's honestly not going to drink.... that...'_ Frank stared, mystified and down right scared when Ichabod raised the cup up and took a long drink from it.  


Ichabod smacked his lips with clear delight. "Nothing quite like a good cup of coffee." He said with a nod, saucer in one hand and his cup in the other. With a dumb little nod, Frank took one, two, three steps out of the break room.  


This time when he passed Abbie's desk, he leaned down to ask, "How the  _hell_ does he manage to drink that coffee without..."  


Abbie made a helpless face, holding her hands out in a 'you got me! I don't know!' gesture. Sighing, Frank gave the passing intern the mug in his hand with a stern "Pour this down the sink and if you value your tongue,  _don't_ drink it! And pour the rest of the pot away with it."


End file.
